With its swampy blend of chain-gang chant and voodoo blues and a lyric about Brian Jones' bones rolling in the grave, Old Souls & Wolf Tickets' very first track makes it clear that you're in for a

With its swampy blend of chain-gang chant and voodoo blues and a lyric about Brian Jones' bones rolling in the grave, Old Souls & Wolf Tickets' very first track makes it clear that you're in for a wonderfully weird journey through rock'n'roll cool, one that veers through boogie-woogie, Texas blues, jazz, and even lounge. Bellowing about lickin' batter in the kitchen, two-tone cars, wakes, kittens, and hep cats, the throaty-voiced Weiss comes off as a French Quarter-haunting, skirt-chasin', cocktail-toting drunken mess that's as likely to howl at the moon (or mutter the words "sneaky Jesus" like an angry pirate) as he is to quote Hemingway in between drags on a cigarette. Wonderfully, Old Souls & Wolf Tickets—like some of the greatest rock records—teeters on the edge of genius and pure shit. And that's probably what makes it so damn fun. If ever there was a standard bearer of rock'n'roll cool, this guy is it.—WO

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